So I'm trying to get this story I've been writing about my recent life publicized, and this community seems to have a lot of diverse people. I have a group on Facebook called "Operation Toowoomba" and it's dedicated to sharing my story and encouraging others to tell their stories. I hope there's no limit to topic lengths, but here's my story:

Preface
Everyone is curious to know what Operation Toowoomba is, and I’m curious as to what it will become. Originally my thought behind Operation Toowoomba was small (at least compared to what it could be now), and now it’s becoming a story on its own. I want to share this story with everyone. The thought behind Operation Toowoomba is that everyone could play a part in this chapter of my life. I hope to be inspired by everyone and in return I’ll inspire as best I can. The craziest ideas in life make the best stories.
Don’t pre-judge this story based on the next few sentences, just let go of everything logical, and believe in dreams. Our conflict rose a few short days before I begun this story. There are 2583.79 miles of road between us. A flight would cost more than we could afford, and Prom is expensive enough. How can I bring her out here for one final hoorah before high school ends forever? What if I just told people our story? The idea was crazy, but it lingered. It was the only shred of hope we had. I tried utilizing the internet, using sites such as youtube and facebook, but that wasn’t working fast enough. How could I acquire a few extra hundred dollars in four months? I already have car payments and phone payments to make. I couldn’t ask my parents. I wouldn’t. I don’t believe in getting money that easily.
The idea came one night while I was telling a member of the Operation Toowoomba group what I hoped to accomplish. His listened to my story for the three hours it took to tell, and was inspired. He told me this story was golden. It would make an epic indie film, and if that failed, it would still make great story to tell people.
So this is my dilemma: I need support. I need fans. We need you all. My hope is that the story will warm your hearts and inspire you to believe in being epic. To believe that crazy dreams are possible. I need that director looking for a great story to see the people we’ve rallied. I hope to get my story purchased, and use that money to fund the dream that Emily and I have. That is what this story is about, killing two birds with one stone: Fulfilling my dream of making a movie, and realizing our dream to go to Prom together. This is a true romance story. Our story.

(Note: some names have been changed. And for our sake, until we turn 18, the events in this story may or may not be true)

I

This story begins at the same point my previous relationship ended: September in Pennsylvania. I had long been in a relationship, with a rather incompatible person. That feeling loomed over us; a dark cloud that could be seen along the horizon. We were two separate people, each with separate goals.
After church that morning I took her out to lunch to a newly opened Italian restaurant. She had been acting quite odd that entire morning. She was silent, almost mourning. Our waiter could not even coax an order out of her, so I ordered a sandwich for us to share. Spinach and sweet red bell peppers complimented the savory wood fired chicken well. But I wasn’t able to enjoy this meal to the fullest. Her staunch silence almost killed my appetite. I say almost because I did manage to clean my plate.
I paid the tab and we left. We barely got out the door and then sat down again at a bench outside of the building. I asked what was wrong. Silence.
Again “What’s wrong?”
She managed to force those ill-omened words out.
“I think we should be friends”.
My brain stopped. This almost sixteen month lifestyle had suddenly shifted. Everything would be different now. It took awhile for me to grasp this.
“What does that mean?”
was the only thing I could utter because it was the only thing I could think.
“I don’t know”
She knew as well as I did then. We were both clueless. I went back inside the restaurant to use their bathroom. It was cross country season and I was always well hydrated. The tears poured out just as quickly as the water had rolled into my mouth. I could not figure out why, I wasn’t terribly sad, I guess it was just emotionally cleansing to do so.
I went back outside. We stood in the parking lot and tried to sort things out. She asked if I had thought of dating anyone else. Well of course I had, but I wouldn’t tell her that, would I? I did. I told her of several girls I had found interesting, but had to pass up due to our way too serious relationship. She allegedly had no one. Or at least she didn’t name them off like I had.
It’s funny that she would ask me the same question about Emily as others would later be asking me about her. She asked
“What about Emily Wobb?”
Hmm. I pondered this. I had noticed Emily before. I first knew her as an extremely talented runner. It wasn’t until the end of the previous school year that I had seen her art. The bright colors and great accuracy she executed in painting animals and people was amazing. This is when I really noticed her.
“I think it would be fun to hang out with her a couple times”
“You think it would be fun to bang her a couple times? What?”
Apparently I’m not very good at articulating my words. And this was no exception, but it got me thinking, for a little while at least.
We followed our plan for the day and went bowling with a few of her friends. I don’t know why I stuck around. I didn’t want to bowl. And I don’t think I’d have much luck even if I’d try. I had been throwing my life in the gutter for awhile now.
We finished and everyone stood around chatting about things I didn’t even listen to. I threw an occasional glance over at her. She was no longer a part of my life. And so in mid conversation I excused myself from that group, permanently. I walked to my car and opened the door. She had followed me to the car. She asked if I were ok.
“I’ll be just fine”.
And with that I closed the door and left that party to go to the next.
Cross country is a great bonding sport. Runners are all a little crazy, which makes them fun to hang out with. My friend Tommy was having a captain’s practice that evening. This would be a good time for me to forget about her. But I couldn’t. I was happy to be single, but I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. It’s a vulnerable state to be in. I had some fun, ate some food, learned about the homecoming hook-ups, and then left around nine.
The drive home was a bit scary. The storm had arrived and the wind blew branches off trees and scattered leaves everywhere. I got home and went to bed. I was exhausted and ready to just go to school the next morning and hope for the best.

II

No school today. I awoke on Monday to a house with no power. Apparently the storm from last night had blown more than just my relationship away. I was stuck to simmer over my thoughts all day.
I didn’t tell my parents about the situation until they asked the date of homecoming. They had been planning for awhile to move back to Oregon where our family was. They were trying to fit all my last high school events in before the move. They were also planning to take a trip that Friday to bring a truckload of our stuff to my grandparent’s house in Washington. It would be advantageous to me at a later time that they left when they did, and for how long they did. This two and a half week period changed my life forever.
I told them I wasn’t sure if I would be going. They were shocked, confused. I told them how she had explained our split as “better for each other” and that “there are more suitable relationships out there”. I agreed with that. It was a cruel lesson I learned those couple of days. That spending a long time with someone you weren’t sure about could be regretful. That throwing around the word “love” is an ignorant thing to do. What power those three words hold, and yet how empty they can be. But it was a lesson I would hold onto. And now I had no reason to stay in Pennsylvania except for cross country. I love running and I love my team. I was sure I could use that word to describe my feelings for the two. And so it was set. The date for departure would be the day after my last race, October 24th. I, for the first time, consent to moving.
The day dragged on. Our power eventually came back on. I read through this novel that she had lent to me. We exchanged a few texts. We assured each other we were both happy and that we could be friends. And so I believed her. Tuesday would be ok. We could just act like nothing happened, and pretend that we never even dated.

III

Word spreads fast, at least at Pine-Richland. And facebook was the catalyst. That morning I was bombarded with the same question over and over. People demanding an explanation as to why our relationship had ended. It was as if we had offended some people, spit on their shoes and called them a nasty name. Others were just curious.
I walked her to her class that day, for the last time. I couldn’t break the habit. Then I went to my first period class. CAD is an incredibly useful program that is taught at an incredibly slow pace. It was nice to get my mind off her and focus on some technical drawings though. And after CAD it was second period, which meant one of my more favorable classes, Art History.
Now this particular class period was an interesting one. Everyone knew about the break-up, including Emily. She wasted no time in making her move. I found out later from her that she had been waiting nearly almost as long as we had been dating, and now was her chance. It was cute. I’m usually oblivious to what girls try to communicate, but this message was obvious. Emily did a great job at spelling it out for me. She said such things as: “I really want to go to homecoming, but I don’t have anyone to go with” and “I really wish someone would ask me to homecoming”. It wasn’t even just verbalizations; it was body language as well. Flaunting what she had, making it protrude in my field of vision. We talked about a lot in that forty-five minute block of time. I came to find out that Emily had many things in common with me, including the same birthday. She was the one, but how to ask her?
I was a rather creative and artsy person myself, and I had acquired the skill of wire sculpting the previous year, largely due to my inspiration drawn from Alexander Calder. Mobiles are what Calder is most famous for, but his wire sculptures are also responsible for his fame.
Emily, being an artsy person, had seen my work and appreciated the fine craftsmanship. That Tuesday during class she asked if I’d make her an animal. Of course I would. And the previous month Emily had given a presentation in AP Art about her trip to governor’s school for painting. She showed the class this paint book she had made. It was incredible, much like her. It contained painted landscapes inhabited by lovely kangaroos. This was it. I would make her a wire kangaroo.
I was thrilled. By sixth period I was securing my plan. I tried to be friendly. After all, hadn’t we agreed to be friends? And so as if she were any of my friends I posed a problem to her. I said something like
“I’ve got a question about homecoming”.
I’m not sure I used the right tone because she responded
“You’re wondering if we can still go together?”
Oh, contraire. What sweet irony.
“No. That’s not my question. I was wondering if it would be alright if I asked someone else” (as if I needed permission).
She tried to play it off as no big deal. He face remained stolid.
“Well, who?”
As if she didn’t know. It was she who first suggested it. That too was ironic.
“Emily Wobb. I was talking to her and we have a lot in common, even our birthdays are on the same day!”
“Well then it’s meant to be” she said.
I almost missed the sarcastic tone due to my over-excitement.
So I followed my friend to lunch, like I did everyday. I sat at the usual table and enjoyed my usual peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She had to have been dying inside, enraged that I could so easily get over her. She told me I should sit at a different table. And so I did. I moved over to the table were my cross country friends sat. They were an entertaining group of guys whose conversations never became dull. On this particular day they were talking about what was on everyone’s mind including mine: Homecoming.
I casually listened. My head was in the fog. What snapped me out of it was the mentioning of her name.
“I might ask Emily Wobb, she hasn’t been asked yet”
My eyes locked onto what my ears had just heard, it was my good friend Ryan.
“No!”
Everyone stared at me with a dazed look.
“Why?”
It was now that I revealed my plan to the public.
“I’m going to ask Emily. Tomorrow. I have something planned.”
The dazed faces and glazed eyes lit up. My peers were as supportive of me as liberalists are for Democrats. I had supporters. What a great feeling.
Ninth period rolled around, the final period of the day, the period Emily had painting and I had ceramics. I talked with her for a few minutes before class started. I don’t remember what we talked about, I remember her mentioning something about leaving early, but it didn’t even occur to me as to why she was leaving early. The bell rang and we parted. I made it to ceramics a few seconds late. The teacher didn’t care. It was my second year taking ceramics. I wasn’t even getting credit for it. I loved ceramics though. Something about working with my hand was just beyond relaxing. I work fervently for some time, only to be interrupted by my phone. I answered it with a hello and then heard:
“Where are you Ajay? The bus is leaving.” It was my good friend Mike. Everything clicked now. Emily was leaving early for our cross country meet. I was supposed to leave with them. Without even hanging up I was already outside the school and in my car. I had no time to lose because the bell was about to ring and then it would be impossible to get out of the parking lot. I threw my car in reverse, and then in drive, and the bell rang. Those loud chimes echoed through the air mirroring the loud beating in my chest coming from my heart.
I raced out of the parking lot disregarding all the posted signs that said “do not enter” and “wrong way”. I was still on the phone, only now I was talking to Ryan. He had forgotten his singlet and wanted me to go to his house and get it. I had no time; I had to get to the park. So I drove at a comfortable almost legal speed and got to my destination with time to spare. Unfortunately I didn’t get to race due to some team rule. So I lent my singlet to Ryan, perhaps that made up for my previous interjection at the lunch table (He did end up asking someone else). Then I treated that time as a practice.
I finished my forty-five minute run just in time to see the end of the girl’s race. By now everyone had heard of my plan, after all it was Pine-Richland, and a few people were asking me when and how I was going to do it. They wanted me to do it that day, after her race. I had better plans though. She finished her race, placing third overall if I remember correctly (which is a big deal because the two other schools were the best in our section). She was a running star, how could I compete? I talked to her after the race. For being so awesome at everything she was extremely humble, which took all the intimidation out of talking to her.
I made a trip to Lowe’s to gather the materials I’d need to fashion my invitation to Emily. Eighteen gauge, galvanized steel wire and a smaller green floral wire were my material of choice. I got home and started on that hour long process. I worked with great care to make sure that this piece of art was worthy of Miss. Wobb. I used the steel wire to construct the kangaroo, and the floral wire to spell out “Homecoming?” in a cursive font. It looked great. But one thing still wasn’t resolved: How would I present this inquiry? And an idea popped up. I’d make a box out of manila tag to hide it until it was ready to be revealed. I would fashion that Wednesday morning. But now I was ready for bed, ready for the next day.

IV

It was a big day for me. I got to school early and collected some thick paper and tape. I measured out the proper dimensions and went to work. I finished construction on the box in CAD class, but I wasn’t done decorating it. We weren’t doing much in Art History that day, which was lucky for me. I went to work decorating the box to make it look like a little wooden crate. Emily sat at the same table as me and saw me decorating the petite box. She asked what it was and I responded
“It’s a surprise”
She told me that she loved surprises, and whoever was getting that box was really lucky. I asked her opinion on it, what she thought it could use, little did she know that she was giving opinions on her own surprise. I learned later that she thought it was some sort of make-up gift for my previous relationship. That was not the case.
Waiting for the opportune time to reveal the truth was difficult. I was starting to shake a little, and I was getting really hot. I tried my best to calm myself, but it was difficult. I only have to last a few more minutes. With ten minutes left in the class I offered the box to her and set free a “Surprise!” She was in disbelief. She looked at the box, then back at me. She opened it and peered inside. She saw that it was a wire animal, and slid it out of the box.
She had talked to her friends earlier that month about homecoming. When they asked her who she wanted to ask, her answer was “Ajay Ryerson”. They thought she was being impractical. He was taken already. But that was Emily’s dream.
Her stunned silence was slightly uneasy. Those few seconds seemed to stretch for days, but my patience was rewarded. Her face glowed and those eyes lit up. I wish I could bask in that glow forever. She was now embracing me. Her frail petite body was held in my arms. She was quivering. I was slightly concerned by her undeniable shaking, but was happy to hear that one word. Those three letters that the English decided upon to mean agreement, consent. The bell rang and she floated out the door.
I floated through the rest of the day. I can only remember the volume of congratulations I received was epic. Someone mentioned a homecoming group and after party to me, something that would come back to bite us. I was too busy being happy to concern myself with such issues.
I returned home and told the good news to my parents. They were happy for me, and eager to meet Emily, but that would have to wait. We were packing up a moving truck with everything we didn’t need for the next month.
My parents left Friday morning, the same morning I had a breakfast date with Emily in my car. I brought Apple Jacks and we listened to my favorite comedian, Demetri Marten. I had heard his jokes hundreds of times, but they were still funny. My pre-joke giggles amused Emily. We listened to the CD past the warnings of the school bells before we decided we should go into the school. I walked her to her first period class and then proceeded to CAD. Unbeknownst to me, this was just the first event of the most incredulous weekend of my life.

V

We gave new meaning to the word “bonfire”. My parents well on their way to the west coast by now, and I was at work. Emily decided that if it was alright with me, she’d come visit me at my house after work. I worked efficiently and managed to get done thirty minutes early. I rushed home and showered. Emily arrived soon after.
We had the house to ourselves. What would we do? I asked her if she wanted to watch a movie and then showed her my movie collection. The movie see chose astounded me, in a good way. Never before had I met such a pretty girl with such great taste. Star Wars Episode VI. Wow. This may have been the moment I decided to never give her up.
We enjoyed some pineapple sherbet, and because Emily had to leave by eleven, we fast forwarded to just the good parts in the movie. This was too good to be true. And so then night went on and the movie ended. Emily went home and I had forgotten to kiss her. Well, maybe I was a little nervous.
Saturday morning was a long run at the park for cross country. The guys asked me about Wobb and if I had taken advantage of the empty house.
“We ate pineapple sherbet and watched Star Wars”
They tried to interpret it as some kind of innuendo. But I ensured them that I meant what I said quite literally.
We spent the rest of that weekend together. After breakfast on Sunday I drove us to the zoo. We had a great time sketching animals and laughing about all the people making noises trying to communicate with the animals. We stayed at the zoo for a few hours, but I had to take Emily home so she could ready her house for this week’s captain’s practice later that evening.
Evening arrived, the guests arrived, and I arrived. The evening was spent watching people make desperate attempts at shaving someone’s head, and eating food off the grill. We formed a circle of chairs on her deck, and everyone conversed. During this conversation though, Emily and I carried on our own conversation via text messaging. We talked about our weekend together and how nobody knew exactly what happened except us.
The night sky was clear that night. Stars were scattered across the darkness, and Emily pointed out the constellations for me. She identified numerous heavenly bodies, I was impressed. We stood close, eyes fixed on the stars, what a great opportunity for a kiss. Not that night though. Our time would come the following weekend.

VI

Having the house to myself was beyond words. The freedom to exercise responsibility taught me that I could in fact handle myself, and I was quite proud that I hadn’t let the house, or my life, fall into disarray. The next few weeks were full of school, running, work, and Emily. I adored every moment spent with her.
I knew in the back of my head that this dream would have to end someday. You can’t just sleep forever. It was a rude awakening though. I had forgotten what strict rule I was under. My parents claimed to trust me, but they still took ridiculous precautions to make sure I would stay out of trouble.
They returned two weeks after that first weekend I spent with Emily, a week after the night I had first kissed her. By this time homecoming was a week away, and I had three weeks left in Pennsylvania. I had neglected to ask my parents about the previously mentioned after party. I was positive they would deny me permission, but I regret not asking earlier than when I did. My parent’s first impression of Emily came when we went out to dinner the Friday before homecoming. My dad would later inform me that Emily was more compatible with me than any previous girl I had been fond of. This was music to my ears, and a confirmation of what I already had known. I was glad that I had my parents support with this.
Parents. That’s an interesting thing to think about; two people with incongruent viewpoints trying to raise the same child. My father was proud to see that I was growing up and making honorable choices. Contrary to this, my mother was afraid of my slow approach to adulthood. They always insisted on that they had come to the same conclusion, but I knew this was impossible, they had to have disagreed. I could never tell which opinions belong to which parent though, and I made it a game to figure out. I’d say I was at least ninety percent correct on those guesses.
It was now Saturday and I had set out on a little mission before the dance. I bought flowers and ribbon; I’m not for being typical. Hand-crafted items just seem to have more value to them. I knew that she would appreciate the care put into making her corsage. She had appreciated everything else I had done.
Driving to her friend’s house I was burning up in my fancy attire. I was thrilled for this night. I wish it could have ended on a more positive note. We met up with a few other people and then proceeded to drive downtown to where we would be enjoying dinner. Unfortunately a stop light had separated us from the other cars. We wondered around the city for awhile, mislead by my sister’s directions, and unable to decipher what her friends had said on the phone, but eventually finding our way. Dinner was phenomenal, and I was ready to dance. Everyone asked me if I were going to the after party. I told them no. I didn’t really want to. My only reason for going would be to accompany Emily. I knew what they would be doing there. I had no desire to participate in that. I respected their decision, and they respected mine.
Dancing with Emily I had found out that we had even more in common. The way she moved and reacted to the atmosphere complimented my actions like a fine wine might compliment a candle-lit dinner. My parents may have returned home, but my dream wasn’t quite over. Feeling particularly lucky that night, and coaxed by Emily, I decided I would ask my parents if I could go to the after party.
My texts were met with great confusion, and even greater suspicion. They granted me until midnight to be home, but that was it. There was a great deal of confusion between Emily, my parents, and I for awhile. My parents didn’t understand why I had requested so late to attend a party, I didn’t understand why Emily wanted to attend a party when she wasn’t into drinking, and Emily didn’t understand why my parents wouldn’t let me go. And so upon returning home I tried to sort it all out with my father. He was very understanding, and hinted around the disapproval coming from mother. We talked for a couple hours, Emily and I periodically texting each other as well. Even though nothing had been resolved, I felt better. I knew Emily was alright, and I knew my dad understood. The trouble came from the same source that plagued my life with stress for the next couple of weeks.
Sunday morning I was troubled by a very disrespectful comment that was rudely thrown my way. My little sister was being quite loud, like most six year olds, and I had sternly requested she lower her voice. Her childish noise was a heavenly choir compared to the jargon that streamed out of my mother’s mouth.
“What’s the matter?! Are you hung-over?!”
Those slanted brows had made the slur burn even deeper. How could she accuse me when I had made the very difficult decision to respect her and my father and come home when I was told?
“Did she want sex?”
And I thought the last comment was ruthless.
“What were you trying to accomplish?”
I exercised more constraint in the next two minutes than I had ever in my whole life. She had not only just disrespected me, but she had torn down the girl I was falling for.
I don’t recall what I said next. It wasn’t much, just enough to get away from her spiteful accusations. I just wanted to be alone now. I was enraged, woeful, and defeated all at the same time. This was the moment my dream began to shatter.

VII

I wasn’t the only one who didn’t understand my mother’s malice. Emily was baffled as to what she had done wrong. My father had left to take another trip to Oregon that Monday, and so I had no one to sympathize with. I didn’t want Emily to carry a burden, and so I encouraged her to write a letter of apology to my mother. We decided that the crime was pressuring me to attend a party. She took my advice and presented my mother with a letter that Wednesday morning. What were we to do now? My time had almost run out, and to make it worse, there was a chance I could be cut short.
The plan had been for my mother and me to stay in Pennsylvania until my final cross country race. The problem was that I had to qualify for that last race. As if she hadn’t disrespected me enough, my mother further laid on the abhorrence with the statement:
“If you don’t qualify, we’re leaving a week early”
I had to qualify. But to do it I would have to be in the top seven on the team. I eventually confronted my mother and asked her why she was not treating me with the esteem I had treated her with. She turned the tables and claimed that by hanging out with Emily I had disrespected her. Was I really hearing this? I asked her why she was so unsupportive of my running? She never once attended any of my cross country races. And now she was almost hoping I wouldn’t qualify so we could leave a week early.
There was a long pause and then a few apologies. She half-heartedly supported me now. Needless to say, the motivation to spend one extra week with Emily was just enough to place me in that number seven spot on the team. And so I spent the next two weeks with Emily as much as I could. I didn’t have my car because my father had taken it to Oregon with him that Monday he left, and so Emily drove us around. I felt bad about it, for some reason it just seemed to be the guy’s roll to drive the girl around, but what could I do?
That final day came, my final race. It felt surreal that in a matter of days I’d be on the other side of the country. My friends had felt the same way. That last race was perhaps the most bitter-sweet moment of my life. It was nice to finish so strong at the end of the season, but alas, it was the end. I went over to Emily’s house after the race. No words could describe that emotional state. We watched The Empire Strikes back, or at least some of it. We were enjoying our last moments with each other when I was interrupted by a phone call from my mother.
“Where are you?”
“Emily’s house”
(Angry sigh) “What are you doing there?”
“Watching Star Wars, why?”
“We’re leaving tonight. Right now.”
That was not expected. Our plans were to leave in the morning. We had been staying in my sister’s apartment for the past week ever since that moving company we had hired collected our things and headed west. My sister worked at a doctor’s office and had contracted some bug earlier that week; her ill state inspired my mom not to be motherly and care for her, but to leave earlier than planned.
The conversation ended and my eyes met the eyes of a very sorrow-filled person. She knew this was it. Everything we had was about to be torn apart and thrown 2500 miles apart. She drove me to the grocery store parking lot where my mom was to pick me up. We didn’t cry. I had to keep my composure for Emily. I had to stay optimistic. This didn’t have to be the end. My mom pulled up. I loaded my stuff into the car and gave Emily one last hug before I sat in the passenger’s seat. I had forgotten something. Fate had dealt me a small victory when I remembered that I had forgotten to turn my final withdrawal papers into the office. I told my mom what I had forgotten, and jumped out of our car and into Emily’s. I handed over the paper to her with instructions to turn it into the office. I kissed here there in that grocery store parking lot. It would be our last for an anonymous amount of time. That was my farewell to her, and my salutation to the road.

VIII

The road was mostly quite. The trip was long. I was in Oregon now. The first week of school was spent hearing the same questions over, and over again. Where am I from? Why did I move here? What do I like to do for fun? Does my name stand for anything? Where did I get these shoes?
I filled my friends for Pennsylvania in on the details of the new school. The art department was lacking, but there was definitely opportunity for me. (I say lacking due to the lack of teachers in the department). I talked to Emily on the phone almost every day. But I made a critical mistake that almost severed my line of communication. I had updated my status on facebook as “Ajay doesn’t want to make friends”, I was tired of meeting people who I had nothing in common with. And the misinterpreted comments about the new school’s art were enough to arouse an anonymous person to write me an accusatory e-mail. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with any more anxiety. If she couldn’t respectfully contact me before pressing charges, then she didn’t need to know what was happening in my life. I removed her from my friends list.
I planned to start running with the cross country team the next week; I figured I would easily make friends with them. After all, runners are all slightly crazy, and usually friendly. Before the first week was even over though, my phone privileges were threatened. I hate the term “A little bird told me”. Don’t toy with me. If someone has a concern with me then they should do the commendable thing and tell me. Besides, I knew who that little bird was. Who else would tell on me but that one I knew my whole life? My parents were afraid that the volume of time I spent talking to Emily (which was less than an hour every other day) was influencing me not to make friends. This was ridiculous. If anyone had the right to be pissed off it should be me.
I explained the situation to my parents, and the conflict was slightly resolved. Talking to Emily would still have to be to a minimum. If my family would have waited a few more days, trusted me for once in my life, then that conflict would have been avoided. The next week I joined the team on a run, and by the weekend I had a group of friends to hang out with. This made it ok to talk to Emily now.
Weeks passed by, I began getting comfortable with my new school and the conversations between Emily and me were just as interesting as when we had first met. We sent each other mail periodically, and made phone calls once a week, but we desperately missed each other’s presence. We asked each other everyday: “When would we see each other again?” The answer was always inconclusive. We talked about silly things like moving to Australia and owning a kangaroo farm. That is when the dream started back up. That small grain of sugar, so sweet to my hungry soul, it made me want more. I began researching and planning. Toowoomba is a nice place to live. It would become the metaphor for our whole plan. We agreed that we would amass a great effort to see each other for Prom.
I began scheming of ways to make money. The only thing I could thing of was to get supporters. Maybe people would donate money to our cause. That felt selfish though. So I thought I could sell shirts. Then I ran the numbers and realized I would have to sell too large of an amount of clothing than I intended to. So I was at a stand still. The facebook group was gaining members, but I still didn’t know what to tell them.
It was later than night that I was contacted by someone I did not expect to ever talk to again. He was a friend from my junior year English class. I had a lot of people asking me what Toowoomba was, and I gave them all the same “you’ll know in due time” answer. But for some reason I was compelled to tell him the story. Previous to contacting me he had decided on staying up late anyways, and so it all worked out. I filled him in on the story, and he was inspired. He returned the favor by ensuring me that I could get a movie deal with this idea. That, in turn, inspired me to write this very story you are reading. I hope that Emily can make it out here for Prom, but there’s more to Toowoomba than that. This “operation” is to inspire every reader to dream big and strive to be epic. Not everyone is going to have a romantic story, but everyone has the opportunity to make their own life an epic story. I hope you all pursue this. Thank you for letting me share this part of my life with you and supporting my effort. You are all very wonderful people.

Part 2

IX

Great efforts are always met with great opposition. Nothing worth while ever comes easy. I’ve heard these phrases thousands of times, and now I’m seeing it happen.
There is always a war being fought. Life itself is a battlefield; a series of alliances and hostility. Toowoomba has recently gone through a battle. As general of this tremendous force, I’ve been under a lot of pressure to succeed. I’m not sure what form success will take, but I’m sure it will be reached.
It was a dark snowy morning when the opposition first made its first offensive movements. I was negotiating with a familiar party. The same territory that had almost severed my line of communication with the Queen was now afraid that propaganda had been made to soul her good name. It was 6:00am and I didn’t feel like dealing with such foolish accusations. I had too many soldiers to watch after; I couldn’t let anything degrade their moral. The negotiations took over an hour and a treaty was drawn up. This territory was to remain neutral throughout Operation Toowoomba. She was smart to negotiate with our militia. There were no casualties for either side. But it was still early morning. The day would drag on and into the next day with a fierce air and ground battle.
Within minutes of finishing the negotiations with the first conflict a bomb went off in the east barracks. Why now? Why did two forces have to oppose us on the same day? No fatalities, thank God. I took role, examined the damage, and treated the wounded.
A declaration of war was in the works. Here we were fighting for one cause and we get attacked for a different cause. I tried negotiations, but was met with more irrational violence. The neighboring territories all voiced their opinion on the matter, some more peacefully than others. But negotiations can only go on for so long.
I started to question if our strategy was valid. Had I led my troops in the right direction? Was this effort worth the struggle? The answer came from the Commander.
“Why are you giving in to the enemy? This operation is epic and right. Who are they to silence our mission?”
He was right. And so there was a great push. An airstrike was sent out, and bombing of enemy territory commenced. The boldness of this plan attracted more allies for our side. With our combined efforts, the enemy was silenced. The battle was won, but the war was not over.
It’s been relatively calm for the past couple of weeks. The Queen is getting anxious for her troops to return home. I’m anxious to return home. War is not easy; it can be both tragic and beautiful. The best stories bloom out of epic war tales though. I have seen it over and over throughout all forms of entertainment. Movies, books, plays, magazines, music, etc.; they all draw from striving to defend a cause.
The next few months are going to be vital to Operation Toowoomba. I must secure some resources and seek alliances. I want all my troops to know that I am a fighter. I don’t lie down and die. I care about my fellow dreamers. I want them to believe that anything is possible. Fight for a cause. Everyone has their own opinions and preferences, so don’t be discouraged when met with strife. Any good cause is not only worth fighting for, but likely to succeed. It may not always happen the way a person plans it to, but life has a way of sorting things out. I’m just curious to see how the next few months sort themselves out…

I hope this isn't too long and I hope it doesn't make the admins hate me... _________________dotbstudios

[quote="Rook"]Can they hire someone who can at least build a ship with a windshield. Idiots.
[/quote]

Hey, just finished reading it! Thanks for sharing a large slice of your life with us.

Relationships are always tricky, and it takes a lot to be able to write openly about them. I became 'just friends" with my girlfriend about 5 months ago. We'd been seeing each other for 13 months. I'm over it now, but there's times when I look back and wished sometimes I hadn't gotten involved. But then, I'll remember a special day, or a conversation we had, and I don't regret it for the whole world.